


Show Boy

by hellolucifer



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Based off of my fantasy job, But no one else is a hero, Eventual Smut, Fluff, I ship Stucky, Light Angst, Lots of Cursing, Lots of alcohol, M/M, Peter Parker Has Anxiety, Peter is Spiderman, Prostitution, Sexual Harassment, Wade is Deadpool, Wade owns a burlesque, but mostly just protective wade, drugs (mentioned), get ready to rumbleeee, kind of an AU, kind of not, slash a speakeasy, there is fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 07:14:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16192691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellolucifer/pseuds/hellolucifer
Summary: Peter discovers a door in a bakery that holds the secrets to another world entirely. What he finds behind that door mystifies him completely. What happens when he agrees to a life of masquerade masks, burlesque dancing, and prostitution? And why is he attracted to the ruggedly handsome fellow who owns the joint?Modern Day Speakeasy AU boooooyssssss!!!!





	Show Boy

**Author's Note:**

> hahahahaha im an awful writer

Peter had high hopes when it came to his future. He figured he would go to college for biotechnology, get published in a respectable scientific journal, and maybe live out his life looking for the answers to all of life’s most burning questions. Not once in his life did he see himself perched on a high building in central Manhattan looking for trouble. But that was his job, what with being a vigilante hero and all. He was spider-man, and the people of New York City rely on him. 

He has been spider-man since he was fifteen, which was around six years ago. Sure, he’s not the well-known scientist he thought he’d be by now, but he doesn’t regret it either. Yet, there have been brief moments in his life when he did. Uncle Ben and Gwen’s deaths come to mind, but he doesn’t dwell on the past. He’s grown a lot since then, and he can’t say he would do anything differently if he had the chance. Although, he would have tried to find a better source of income if he had known how underpaying vigilante justice really is. 

To say Peter was poor is an understatement. Currently a resident in Queens, Peter lives in a one room loft that costs far too much. It’s a struggle everyday to feed himself, especially since his fast metabolism requires him to eat twice as much as anyone else - and that’s just the bare minimum. On top of that he pays for rent, heat, insurance, appliances, and taxes. If his life were a class in school, Peter would be barely passing - like 1% above failing. 

But Peter tries to avoid these thoughts as he patrols, which he currently is doing now. On top of a high building sits spider-man, a well known and highly feared/loved hero. No one knows the face behind the mask, and that’s how he likes to keep it. Not his aunt May or his closest friends know what he gets up to at night. Peter’s fine with this, as it keeps them safe. 

Peter’s ears pick up the faint sound of conversation, something that he would normally be blocking out, but his “spidey sense” brings it to the forefront of his mind. He quickly listens in, fully aware that his spidey sense doesn’t pick up on just  _ any _ conversation. 

“I’m telling you, man,” an unknown voice says tens of stories bellow Peter. “He doesn’t let Nobodies into the place. You gotta be pretty influential, if you know what I mean.” Peter quickly realizes they must be talking about a club, or even maybe a gang. He listens in closer to try and catch the other person’s response. 

“I don’t know…” another voice says. He sounds younger than the other man, and a lot less confident. “I just don’t see the point, ya’know? How’s it any different than a bar or a strip club?” The other man scoffs, disbelieving. At this point Peter begins to climb down the building, in the shadows, and find the source of the conversation. He spots two men, both smoking their respective cigarettes as they lean against the side of the building. The shorter of the two looks cautious and a little hesitant, while the other looks completely relaxed. 

“Listen, I wouldn’t be tellin’ you about it if I didn’t think it was worth it. Come with me, just this once. If you like it you can apply for a membership; if you don’t there’s no obligation to come back. What’s the harm?” The taller man slaps the other on the back amicably and he shudders, finally giving in. 

“ ‘right, where is it anyway?” The shorter man drops his cigarette to the ground and steps on it, firmly putting it out. The taller man smiles, an evil look in his eyes.

“Follow me.” 

Peter shouldn’t have followed them and should have minded his own business, but a part of him was curious to see as to what the man was going on about. The two men were in no hurry as they began walking south towards the Bronx, and Peter had no trouble following them from the rooftops above. After about a ten minute walk they stopped in front of bakery. Peter squints his eyes in confusion. Last he checked it was one in the morning, so there was no reason as to why that bakery would still be open, but the two men had no trouble of walking right in. 

Clearly the lights of the store were off and no one was in there, so what in the world could they be doing? He drops down the building effortlessly, landing in the shadows. Quickly scanning his surroundings, he ensures that no one is around watching. Once he sees he’s the road is clear and his spidey sense remains calm, he enters the building. 

The room looks like a regular shop. There are shelves full of bread and baked goods. There’s a cash register and a space for a line, but other than that there was nothing. Peter strains his ears and hears the men. Their voices are coming from down the hallway behind the register, where Peter assumes is the bathroom, kitchen, and office. Quietly, he begins to walk down it, careful that no one sees him. He peeks his head in every doorway, yet the rooms are empty. The last door has a sign on it that says “Office”. He listens intently, but there is complete silence behind the door. He test his spidey sense, but there is nothing.

Confusion washes over him. There’s no place they could have gone except for the office, but his gut tells him it’s empty. He decides to inspect it anyway. There could be a hint as to where they went. Slowly, he opens the door and is struck with even more confusion. There is nothing in the room. No desk, no papers, no nothing. The only thing in there is a heavy looking door that leads to an unknown destination. There’s no handle on Peter’s side, but he can tell it opens inwards. A sickening feeling flutters through his stomach. 

Many questions run through Peter’s head as he stares at the ominous door.  _ What are they doing in there? How did they even get in? What could this small bakery be hiding that warrants a door like  _ this _?  _ He takes a step closer and once again strains his ears, but the thing must be completely soundproof as he can’t hear a thing. Not liking the situation, Peter returns to the outside of the building. There’s not much that scares Peter anymore, but that room gave him chills. He decides then that this is something worth solving, and he should keep his eye on the joint. Who knows what they’re doing in there?

He spends the next few hours watching the building. No one else goes in or out until around four in the morning, when what looks like a staff member enters, flicking in the lights. Another hour later and more staff show up and even some customers. Peter’s positively bewildered. Where did those men go? Was there another entrance to the building? If so, where the  _ hell  _ can Peter find it? Sighing, he gets up from his hiding space and calls it a day. There’s only so much scouting he can do. 

When he gets home he collapses, absolutely exhausted from the long night before. Before he passes out, he reminds himself to research the bakery when he wakes up. Quickly, darkness consumes his vision and he falls peacefully into slumber.

The next morning (or afternoon, rather) Peter hops onto his ancient computer. For it’s age, it runs fast; this is simply due to the fact that Peter is very knowledgeable in technology and has tinkered with his computer plenty of times so that it runs more smoothly and fast than any computer currently on the market. It’s helpful when Peter is in a rush for information, like he is now. 

He does a basic search of the bakery, which happens to be called “Mr. Red’s Bakery”. Surprisingly, the bakery’s owner is not “Mr. Red”, but a man who goes by Wade Wilson. Peter hums contemplatively. It’s not uncommon for a business to name a their store after someone else. For all Peter knows, Mr. Red could be Wade’s grandfather or something. With a huff, he continues to scroll through the little information Google provides him. The store opens at five in the morning and closes by five in the afternoon, except for Sundays - they’re closed on Sundays. Peter shrugs at this; the owner must be religious.

There’s not much else Google provides him. It gives him a street adress, a phone number, and their busiest hours. He then looks into the owner: Wade. A quick google search shows different men from different places. There don’t seem to be any news articles connected to Wade, either. Not even any social medias come up for Peter’s specific Wade. It’s like the man as no footprint. With an exaggerated exhale he looks back at the information on the store. He notices something he hadn’t before: a “help wanted” badge. Peter sits still while his mind runs a mile a minute. If they’re hiring then Peter could easily inspect the room with the door and figure out what they’re up to. But at what price? Peter figures that if it comes down to it he can always fight. 

In the end he decides to call them and ask for an interview. He steals himself quickly before dialing the number into his phone. After three rings the other end picks up. 

“Thank you for calling Mr. Red’s. How can I help you?” The voice is feminine and her words are curt. Clearly this woman has no problems speaking to strangers. Peter licks his lips. He has never been one for talking to strangers, at least not without his mask. 

“Hi,” he says, forcibly cheery. “I’m calling about the help wanted sign on your website. Do you happen to still be hiring?” He worries his lips when the woman doesn’t respond immediately. 

“Yes, but an application needs to be filled out. If you stop by the store you can pick one up.” Peter smiles, relief flooding through him. 

“Thank you. I’ll be by in thirty minutes.” Before he can say goodbye the woman hangs up. His body is shaking and his legs feel weak as he stands back up. He’s seriously going to go through with this. To stop himself from overthinking his decision he busies himself with getting ready. He puts on a t-shirt and jeans and heads out of his loft, locking the door behind him. 

The bakery isn’t too far from him, so in a couple of stops on the subway he’s in the general area. With a five minute walk he arrives to the bakery. It’s surreal to be back during the day. The streets are alive with foot traffic and people chatter amicably as they walk by Peter. The bakery’s doors are wide open and sweet smells of bread and cake waft into the street. If he wasn’t so nervous Peter would say it was serene. With a shaky breath he re-enters the building. 

A few people wander through the store. Some have items in small cart-like baskets and others are empty handed. They all look thoroughly interested in the baked goods, for some reason. Peter doesn’t question it, even if bread’s never been his thing. His eyes do fall, however, on some fresh baked cookies. But now is not the time to ogle the food. Hurriedly, he walks to the counter at the back of the store. Behind it is a beautiful woman, presumably the same woman from the phone earlier. 

The woman has red hair that’s cut into a short bob. Her face is round in shape and spectacularly symmetrical. Her lips form a natural pout and are attractively plump. Peter might have had a crush on her if it weren’t for the fact that she gives off a threatening vibe. Her stance is relaxed, but she looks ready to strike. Peter feels like shrinking where he stands, but her eyes catch his and she looks at him expectantly. He continues to the counter, slightly embarrassed. 

“How can I help you?” She asks. This is definitely the same woman from the before. 

“Um, I called in earlier about the application?” He feels small under her piercing gaze. She looks him up and down slowly before sliding him the form. He looks over it once before murmuring a quick “Thank you” and turning back to the door. He practically runs home. 


End file.
